


Game For Two

by Hamyheikki



Category: The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel - Michael Scott
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Humor, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Stand Alone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 06:55:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23467243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hamyheikki/pseuds/Hamyheikki
Summary: “You do realize people can be nice in general, without an implication of anything else?” Hawk huffed. “Then again, in your case that might not be an option.”His eyes wide with mock-offence, Billy straightened up. There was a healthy layer of blush creeping on his cheeks as the drinks did their work, making him bolder still. “Are you saying I can’t have a nice chat with someone without an ulterior motive?”
Relationships: Niccolò Machiavelli/Henry "Billy the Kid" McCarty (Nicholas Flamel)
Kudos: 25





	Game For Two

**Author's Note:**

> For the lovely folks on SINF discord server.  
> I blame you guys for this, I'll have you know that.

There were so many colors flashing at once. Green, red, blue, yellow. Some purple in there. The music was picking up again, volume climbing as the drop of the beat crawled closer. People, packed tightly together, moved around the dance floor, pushing, yelling and laughing.

Billy adored every minute of it.

Granted, he had only done a quick spin on the floor before retreating to the bar. It was a busy night, and it had taken him a few attempts to wave down the bartender, but now that he was properly seated, sipping his margarita, he found the buzzing masses relaxing. There was a constant vibration in the air. Electricity, in a way. It made his life at the farm look like shit in comparison, that’s for sure. Not that Billy didn’t enjoy living on a ranch, family business and all that, but sometimes a lad just needed to blow off some steam. And a place like this, nightclub in a big city, certainly offered a fresh change of scenery. 

The sudden murmur near his ear made Billy spun around, nearly spilling his drink in the process.

There was a man, leaning on the counter beside him.

_“... Loud... music!”_

_Oh, Hawk had returned._ With a wide grin, Billy threw his arm around his fellow man, offering the glass for him before taking a swig himself.

“There you are! Was wonderin’ where you ran off to!” He took a long sip, sighing as the burning sensation settled in the pit of his stomach. _Good stuff._ Then he glanced back at his frowning friend. 

“You saying' something?”

The other man grimaced, voice rising in order to be heard. “I SAID THAT THE MUSIC IS TOO DAMN LOUD!”

Billy’s grin widened. “I KNOW RIGHT? ISN’T IT COOL?”

Shaking his head, Hawk turned away and caught the waiter’s attention. Soon, he too was sipping down a drink, a simple mix of Gin & Tonic. As if hearing his complaints, the music _did_ ease off just then, and a more slower-paced melody began to play.

“Finally. Thought we’d have to suffer through at least 3 more of those,” he said, giving Billy a sideways glance. “Although you would probably enjoy that.”

Truth to be told, he really would not. Despite his hunger for action and spectacle, Billy had to admit the bounding tempo of the last five songs had grown tiresome. A slower tune was a welcomed pause for the hectic evening. 

And it made it quite a lot easier to speak without having to strain one’s vocal cords, which he had to appreciate.

“I’m just happy to get a chance to question you a bit,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows. “Don’t you dare to act like there wasn’t some wooing going on a minute ago.” 

Hawk merely scowled. “What are you on about?”

“No use in denying it!” Billy tossed a fast look to the other side of the room, meeting eyes with a young woman who had been his friend’s rather enthusiastic dance partner during the last song. The girl was still eyeing them, and whispering something to the woman next to her.

Hawk noticed as well. “You mean her?” He shook his head, lifting the half-full glass. “It was just a dance, mate. Nothing more.”

“But it _could_ be.” Under Billy gaze, the girl smiled and gave them a little wave. “See! She is flirting back.”

“You do realize people can be _nice_ in general, without an implication of anything else?” Hawk huffed. “Then again, in your case that might not be an option.”

His eyes wide with mock-offence, Billy straightened up. There was a healthy layer of blush creeping on his cheeks as the drinks did their work, making him bolder still. “Are you saying I can’t have a nice chat with someone without an ulterior motive?”

Seeing the start of the game for what it was, Hawk shrugged, downing the rest of his drink. “Just making observations, that’s all.”

“I have plenty of chats with _you_.”

“We are _not_ going down that path Billy, I keep telling you.”

“Fine,” Billy said, setting his own glass on the counter next to Hawk’s. He took a quick once-over of the club, before going on. 

“IF I can hold a civil conversation with someone here, for five minutes, I win.”

Hawk’s eyes rolled at the tone. “Sure about ourselves tonight, aren’t we.”

The wide grin was an obvious answer. “You too intimidated to risk it?”

With a sigh, a five dollar bill was pushed on the table. “Fine, you go and do your thing.” He glanced around the room, eyes halting at the other end of the bar counter. “But I get to pick the target.”

“Sure.” Billy followed his friend’s gaze. There was a lone man, seated some distance away from there. He seemed to be nursing a half-done glass of wine. He was well-dressed fellow from the looks of it, sporting an expensive three-piece suit and a tie, and seemingly completely oblivious to the fact that he was the only one in the whole club doing so. A bit older too, somewhere between 40 and 50, if Billy had to guess. A good looking man, nonetheless. 

“Easiest five dollars of my life.”

Billy, startled by Hawk’s sudden words, tore his eyes away from the mystery man. “Huh?”

Beside him, Hawk sighed. “Mate, you are practically drooling already. And you’re just gonna march there, sit down and have a normal conversation with the guy?”

“Well, yeah,” Billy said, although he had to swallow before going on, “I mean how hard can it be?”

He could almost hear the eye-roll going on next to him. “Famous last words.”

“You’ll see. Keep those five dollars ready, ‘cause this is gonna be over in a jiffy.”

Hawk simply grinned. “Remains to be seen.”

Before he could throw a snarky reply though, Billy’s eyes caught the sight of the man. He was starting to uncoil from his seat, hands moving towards the pockets of the jacket. Like he was about to take his leave.

A go-time, then.

With few quick steps, and far less confidence than he would have liked, Billy walked over to the man still rummaging through his pockets.

“Hi there!”

At the sound of his voice, the man did turn to look. His hands halted their search as well, the tall body sinking back in the chair. A promising sign. Putting on his best award-accepting smile, Billy shuffled closer and rested his own weight against the counter. A nice few feet away, to make his approach more appropriate. 

The man didn’t move away.

“Evening.” There was a pause, during which Billy felt he was being evaluated in disturbing detail. Pair of sharp eyes moved over him, from head to toes, before settling on meeting his gaze. “And you are?”

“Oh yeah, probably should have led with that,” Billy said and pulled a chair for himself. That earned him a quick raise of eyebrows from the guy, but in the end, he merely seemed amused. “Name’s Billy. And trust me, I _know_ this comes right out of left field, but I’m having a bit of a wager with my buddy over there -” he waved a dismissive hand towards the direction he’d come from, where Hawk was silently watching them, “and he is a sore loser, hence the intense staring you’re currently witnessing.” 

A corner of the man’s mouth was lifting up slightly as he saw what Billy was talking about. “So it’d seem.” The wine glass was lifted to a mock greeting. After Hawk had returned the gesture, under Billy’s smirking watch, the man swirled to face him again. “This wager of yours has something to do with me?”

“You could say that, yeah.” Billy waved to the barkeep and ordered another drink for himself. “I’m just trying to prove a point, so if you could play along for me a sec, that’d be a big help.”

The man huffed. “So you decided to just waltz up to a total stranger and recruit them to your assistance? All in order to win a friendly bet?” He sipped the last of his wine. “How... unusual.”

“Well the bet kinda _requires_ a stranger -”

“How so?”

Billy took a minute to fully look at the man sitting beside him. He did look entertained, at least, and possibly down for a little mindless passtime like this. Perhaps it was the lateness of the hour, or the fact that he appeared to be alone in the club. Either way, if he’d agree to play a bit, the wager was basically won.

As he grew more confident (with the calculating gaze turned more docile), Billy leaned in, although without lowering his voice. “See, my friend thinks I cannot hold a normal conversation with anyone without fooling around.”

The man’s expression shifted from humorous to puzzled. “And what does this ‘fooling around’ include?”

Billy shrugged. “Y’know, playful banter, flirting, that sort of thing. The type you do when you’re out drinking.”

“I see. You do that often, then?”

“Often enough to warrant a bet, I guess,” Billy said with a grin. “Granted, if I _was_ flirting here, I can guarantee you’d know. I am quite up in my game, so to say.”

The man’s eyes lit up at the statement. “Is that so?” He turned on his seat slightly, his whole body now facing Billy’s. “And how would you go about... courting me, should the situation be different?”

There was a glimmer of mischief in the lilt of otherwise even voice which made Billy to perk up as well. The teasing edge of it was just subtle enough to pique his interest, like a game waiting for him to play. And, given how he had essentially dragged the poor fella into a sudden conspiracy merely for him to win a bet, who was he to back down if the guy wanted some easy talk in return?” 

“Well, for starters, I wouldn’t have just up and walked at you. That’s far too obvious, I tell ya.”

The man smiled wider. “Indeed.”

“Maybe I would have tried to catch your eyes from afar at first. Sent a drink to your way.”

“I’d say that’s a rather straightforward approach as well,” the man said. “You could just come over and order me a drink right at my seat.”

Without even noticing it himself, Billy leaned in further. He’d put his glass down a moment earlier as his hands had taken flight with the explanation. “Yeah but see, you gotta scout the scene! To find out if the one you’re tryna get is into it, you know? Give them a chance to back out if not.”

“Oh, so it is a sort of waiting game then? To see if they... ‘bat for the same team as you’, like the youth says.” The man took a moment to think, before asking, “After you get the all clear signal, what would you do?”

“It depends,” Billy said, shrugging again, “In your case, I would probably start with your clothes.”

That caught the man off-guard. He blinked quite a few times. “My clothes?”

“Yeah, I mean you can’t really expect no one to bring it up in a place like this.”

The man frowned, but only mildly, while glancing down at his suit. “What, pray tell, is wrong with my attire?”

It was an oddly endearing sight, to have a grown man glare at himself with a pout, while sitting in a full club, surrounded by people half his age, seemingly unaware how out of place he looked. Not wanting to point it out downright though, Billy just covered the sly smirk behind his hand. 

“Nothing, it’s just not the style most folks would go for these days. Especially while out partying.” Coming to think of it, Billy was genuinely curious. “Since we’re on the subject, why is a guy like you sitting alone in a nightclub?” With haste, he added, “Not that there’s anything _wrong_ with that, mind you! You just... I dunno, stand out.”

“I had a meeting earlier. It... did not go quite as expected.” The tone of his voice warned Billy to not push the matter further. Which, fair enough, was not something he felt he had a right to do either way. It did explain the odd choice of clothing, and that’s what he had asked about.

“Gotcha, an evening going south. For what it’s worth tho, I gotta say that outfit is smashing. Makes you a bit of an odd one out, but hey, I am all for it.” Billy’s winning grin was back with full force, and he was pleased to see the man relax and cease his fidgeting. “Are you planning on heading home after you leave?” 

“No,” the man said, taking a quick peek at the his wrist clock, “I’m actually just visiting this city, and thus staying at a hotel. 

“Ah, you’re on a trip then,” Billy said, leaning in. “Business or pleasure?”

Rather than looking taken back, the man gave him a direct stare. “That would depend on what I come across, I suppose.”

“Well, if you ever need a tour guide -” Billy laid the teasing thick, and added a wink for good measure. “I do know my way around the block, if you catch my drift.”

Luckily for him, the amused smile from earlier re-emerged, this time with a quirked brow. “Do you now?”

An elegant hand made Billy jump on his seat as it was planted smoothly on top of his own on the counter. The grip was a gentle one, a soothing caress soon following the gesture.

“Perhaps I could use a local man. Have him show me a thing or two. As they say, it never hurts to really... _absorb the culture_.”

Had he got more sense in his twitching brain, Billy might have been more embarrassed by the soft whimper he let out at the words. A _gentleman,_ a well-dressed stranger from a bar, was giving him a look heated enough to cause his stomach to lurch. A pair of grey eyes scanned his face, every now and then lingering on his lips, then moving back up to meet his gaze with ease. 

The situation had pretty much turned upside down.

And yet, Billy couldn’t really bring himself to care too deeply about that.

Apparently picking up his current state of short-circuiting, the man gave Billy’s palm a final squeeze before leaning back and pulling the pile of unused napkins closer. He then plucked a pen out of the breast pocket of this jacket, and proceeded to write something down.

The movement, and the sudden lack of pressure on his hand, got Billy startled back to the present, and he watched as the man folded the napkin. 

“I am going to stay in the city for a while. And so, if my suggestion holds your interest, do give me a call.” With that, the man stood up, before leaning down to bring his lips close to Billy’s flushed cheek. 

“For _you_ , I promise to answer regardless of the hour.”

The man was already headed out from the door when Billy managed to halt his shrieking brain long enough to think. Dumbfounded, he glanced at the napkin he still had in his grip, and felt an abrupt need to run his fingers over the spot where the man’s fingers had rested a mere moment ago.

He didn’t even try to trample down the wave of excitement running down his spine.

His attention was soon drawn back to the napkin. He had to drag his sweaty palms along the helm of his shirt quite a few times before he could safely open the paper.

The handwriting greeting him was just as flourish and overly fancy as the man himself.

**_~ Niccolo Machiavelli ~_ **

A name for the face. 

Well, that was something.

With the napkin tightly squeezed in his fist, and some spring in his steps, Billy strolled over to the counter, where Hawk was lazily watching him. He stopped in front of the man, smirked, and slammed the paper on the table.

“Told you, for a smooth talker like me, that was just as easy as a walk in the park!”

“Impressive, indeed.” Hawk leaned closer, taking a good look at the number. “Got a home cell too, I see.”

Billy’s chest puffed out, grin growing with his pride. “Sure did.”

“Good, good,” Hawk muttered, straightening the paper out. “There is just one thing I don’t quite get here.”

“And what’s that?”

A brow raised, Hawk returned the smirk with one of his own. “Why on earth did you get the bloke’s number, when you were _supposed_ to prove me that you can befriend people without hitting on them?”

He watched as Billy took a slow double-take on the paper. Then glanced at the pair of now empty bar stools further down the counter.

And then at the paper again.

“... _Oh._ ”


End file.
